Last Believer
by GreatDarkNoodleKing
Summary: Can I even call this a story? No. It's a drabble. It's a stupid dream that I had that I wrote into words... ROTG- Jack is still a child, right? So of course he can still see him. And thus, he can still believe in him... Bad at descriptions...


**Don't really know if I can actually count this as a story… I see it more as a drabble that my brain produced… I guess… Well, anyway, after seeing the movie twice, reading up a little on Pitch's background story and watching dozens of YouTube videos on the subject, it's inevitable that I'd create a Rise of the Guardians something or other… If this lacks any emotional oomph it makes sense- haven't really been writing anything at all lately… **

**Will place title here when I think of one…**

Jack Frost was mulling over some insults from Bunnymund on his frozen lake in Burgess; actually, he had been all day. The stupid rabbit had gotten him with a good one and he didn't know how to respond. He _hated_ when the rabbit won their little insult battles- he'd always come up with something better the next time he saw him, but it didn't mean he enjoyed being on the losing end until then.

He kept skating around in circles, absently tapping the already solid lake with his staff on occasion. Muttering angry but playful words about the giant furry creature was the only real way he could console himself for the moment. He slowed his skating down and tried searching his brain for insults that would really stick the fluffy bunny. Eventually this mental searching ended in Jack completely halting his skating- he needed to think of something really really good. He had to outdo himself.

Jack scowled at the frozen freshwater beneath his feet, and the reflection of something glimmering in gold in it brought that scowl up into a happy grin. Lifting his head, Jack waved excitedly at Sandman, who waved back happily, sending a winding stream of golden sand to dance around his thin frame. Jack ran his fingers over the sand, and golden snowflakes jumped out of the sand before his face.

Then the sand dissipated and wove away- towards the little town of his birth. Jack watched it with his trademark grin before his ice blue eyes spotted a dark blot in the glowing happiness he surrounded himself with. At first Jack thought it was just a tree trunk; it was tall and thin enough… But on second glance, he found that it was actually Pitch standing on the edge of the hill, just looking down at him.

Spreading his feet to shoulder width apart on the ice, Jack clenched his staff tighter in his hands, furrowed his brow, and prepared for an attack. When it never came and Pitch didn't make any sort of movement, Jack shifted nervously, glancing around for nightmares before shouting, "What're you waiting for, Pitch? Too scared to attack me?"

Jack could easily see Pitch's eyes- even from the distance of what Jack assumed to be a good thirty feet away- the golden orbs widened slightly and Pitch began walking toward him. Now a spike of fear had lodged itself into Jack's stomach and was only wriggling in deeper with each of Pitch's silent footsteps.

"Stay back!" Jack shouted, lifting his staff to the height of his chin, "Or so help me I will freeze you back into your hole in the ground!"

Pitch had reached the edge of the frozen lake by this point, but Jack's threats halted him. And once Jack saw he had stopped, he finally took the moment to actually look at Pitch. His eyes were still wide, not as much as they had been when Jack first shouted at him, but still wide. His head was tilted to his left ever so slightly, as if he were confused by Jack's presence.

"Can you see me Frost?" Pitch suddenly asked- his voice so quiet Jack actually found himself having to read his lips to comprehend what he just asked.

Jutting his jaw out angrily, Jack took this question to be teasing. He quickly spat, "Yes I can see you- what kind of question is that?!"

Pitch blinked his once more wide eyes and took another step toward Jack. The winter spirit, in turn, jumped backwards, lifting his staff again, aiming it defensively at the king of nightmares.

The taller man stood still, but it wasn't as if he was listening to an unspoken order from Jack to halt. He looked slightly out-there. Like he realized where he was, but at the same time like he had absolutely no idea. He raised his hand to his chin, rubbing it thoughtfully, muttering gently to himself.

"Yes, you never turned eighteen… Afraid… Would explain… Only…" Jack was trying to catch words in Pitch's seemingly incoherent whispering, but what he did catch didn't really make much sense. Finally Jack announced himself to Pitch again by clearing his throat loudly and tapping the lake with his staff three times.

Pitch seemed to notice the staff more than Jack's vocals. He looked back up at Jack again and muttered calmly, "You can see me…"

Groaning in annoyance, Jack snapped at the boogeyman, "Alright Pitch, you're starting to tick me off. Either explain why you're here or get lost."

"Where else would you like me to be Frost?" Pitch suddenly retorted, startling Jack with his voice. He was actually talking- not whispering. Jack hadn't been expecting it.

"What…?" Jack blinked, trying to process the cryptic question, but quickly shook it off. "Pitch, cut the crap. Why're you acting so weird?"

"I could tell you but you'd just attack me again, wouldn't you?" Pitch pointed out, motioning to Jack's staff as if it were a simple thing. Frowning, Jack lowered his weapon, and gave Pitch a 'well?' look. Pitch smirked a little bit before stepping toward Jack again- said boy tensed his grip on his staff and made to lift it again. "Relax Frost," Pitch ordered calmly, stepping toward him again, "I'm just checking on something…"

"Yeah and what's that?" Jack asked, obviously not trusting a word from the dark man's mouth. Pitch didn't respond, he just nodded as if he were answering and moved toward Jack. He reached a hand out and simply touched Jack's shoulder, yet the motion and contact was enough to cause Jack to flinch and gasp quietly in terror. Pitch just watched as he pressed a little bit more forcefully against the navy blue fabric as if it were the most interesting magic trick in the world.

Jack was getting a little fed up with Pitch's weirdness. Groaning, Jack rolled his shoulder forward, knocking the gray fingers off, he asked, "Is there some rhyme or reason why you're acting like an obsessive stalker?"

The shorter white-haired boy looked up at the foot taller man and waited in annoyance until he received his response. It didn't take as long as the first few times he had asked. Pitch replied calmly. Quietly. Plainly putting out something that made Jack's entire being turn inside out with a confusion he'd never felt before.

"You're my last believer…"

The Frost boy shivered at the look in Pitch's eyes, and he stepped backwards. "I- I don't get it," Jack stuttered, nearly tripping over his own feet. What was that supposed to mean? Jack was a spirit just like Pitch, how did that make him a believer? The other guardians could see him just the same as he could, would that make them believers? Well, what did Pitch mean by believers? Questions were tumbling about in his head- so much so that he actually felt the need to hold onto it to stop the spinning inside.

Pitch just watched his turmoil until it had subsided enough for Jack to look back up at him. The King of Nightmares allowed a smile devoid of any emotion grace his lips before he spoke. "Well, now that I think of it, it all makes sense to me… But let me start off at the beginning so you can comprehend it as well…"

Jack ground his molars against each other, rotating his square jaw in frustration as Pitch seemed to think back to a point Jack would remember. Finally he began to relay this apparent tale to him.

"When you Guardians sent me back into the earth, back into the darkness, that, by all manners of the words and all meanings, technical should have been my end. I was attacked by my nightmares for quite some time- of course; eventually I was left to my own devices. I assume they died off… As I should have. Yet I didn't." Noticing the confused look on Jack's face, Pitch smirked a little and continued, "Yes, I was confused too. But because I was still physically here, that meant that I had to have at least one true believer left. Fear will always exist, but I only will if there are those who remember me and fear me… So for quite some time I tried finding who it was who could still see me… Still feel me… Physically and mentally, I suppose… And tonight… I found out who…"

Pitch had fallen silent and was now simply staring at Jack. Jack swallowed a lump in his throat and he whispered, "Me?" The Nightmare king nodded.

Fidgeting with the idea, Jack mumbled, "I still don't get it…"

"You're still a child, Jack," Pitch said- when had he gotten so close to him? Jack flinched, feeling Pitch place his hands onto his shoulders as he stood beside him. "Though you've been this way for three hundred years, you never actually reached adulthood… You're still seventeen."

Jack tried to wriggle away from Pitch, but the dark man held him fast, though not very firmly. His usual iron grip felt weak to Jack. And that was when the frozen teen finally noticed that Pitch didn't look well. He looked ill. Dark circles below his golden orbs implied that he hadn't slept in ages- did Pitch even sleep? Jack didn't know. His thin, shallow cheeks looked as if they had been pulled over the bones too tightly. Like all the fat had been stolen away from his already thin face.

Swallowing for what felt like the hundredth time in the last few minutes, Jack found the courage to speak. "Well, yeah, but none of the other Guardians are kids and they can all still see you…" the instant the statement left his throat Pitch released his grip on the boy and had stepped back.

Jack didn't understand what was happening. What was wrong with Pitch?

"Jack," Pitch whispered his name, looking sullen and sorrowful- even for Pitch.

"They can't see me…"

Now Jack had to hold onto his head again. He hated talking to Pitch for more than a few minutes- because some way or another he ended up screwing with his head and making him doubt everything. Instinctively he held up a hand, specifically with one finger raised, asking for a moment. He felt warm fingers encase his hand and he jolted upright to look at Pitch.

"We can still catch Sandman, come, I'll show you," he whispered before tugging on Jack's arm by his hand and leading him into town. Jack had felt all his fear of being attacked melt away a long while ago- all new fears had replaced that. Fears of the sorts of Pitch's mental state, Pitch's words being true, fear for what would happen to Pitch if they were, fears of what Jack would do if he were telling the truth, and a nagging fear that it was all his fault.

They made it into the middle of Burgess, Sandy floating happily on a golden cloud above them. Pitch stepped away from Jack, standing about two feet in front of him.

"Call him down, have him come to you- you'll see," Pitch said, just waiting. Jack called Sandy down, telling him he needed to ask him something.

The tiny golden man floated down toward Jack, right toward Pitch. Jack waited with hope caught in his lungs. But when the shimmering golden man flew right through Pitch with a distinct 'woosh' all that hope came out as a terrified, trembling exhale and was replaced by quick, sharp, painful intakes of horror. Pitch was right! Sandy couldn't see him!

Jack couldn't find his words now- every fiber of his being was shaking like a leaf. Sandy had a question mark above his head, but Jack couldn't even speak to assure him nothing was wrong.

Pitch was beginning to walk away, and Jack felt desperation well up in his throat, which came out as a quick, "Never mind Sandy, I forgot." Before he ran after the king of Nightmares, leaving Sandman with about six question marks above his head.

"Pitch! P-Pitch!" Jack gasped, chasing after the man who wasn't even walking that fast. Jack just couldn't get his feet to work fast enough to catch him without tripping and losing their grip on the ground. Finally he fell forward into the boogieman and accidentally sent both of them tumbling forward a little.

Frowning, Pitch asked, "Was that really necessary?"

Jack jumped to his shaky legs, brushing himself off at least five times. "Y-you… S-sandy. H-he, he couldn't… Sandy didn't…" He knew exactly what he was trying to say, but every time his lips reached the word his brain already had said, they refused to form it.

Pitch stood back up and said calmly, "Yes, yes, I know… I tried to tell you that… To the Sandman and your other friends, I'm just a memory… And not even one that can make them shudder… They don't believe I'll ever threaten their existence ever again…"

"B-but they… They believed that after the Dark Ages too, didn't they? Why is now so different…?" Jack asked, stumbling over his words again.

Pitch sighed. "Because this time they have you. They truly believe you killed me forever, Jack…" he replied, turning away, placing his hands behind his back and walking away. "It's for the best… You'll soon stop believing in me as well, and then I'll finally be able to die in peace…"

"Y-you don't want to die, do you?" Jack asked, jumping forward, tripping over himself again at the idea of dying, and rolling to the ground.

Pitch scoffed, "Of course I don't want to die. Would you want to die, Frost? It's happened to you before, has it not?" Jack lifted himself into a sitting position, looking up at Pitch, who had come back to scowl down at the teen. Jack swallowed, shook his head from side to side, and looked at the ground with wet eyes.

"No. Exactly," Pitch hissed, "I thought not… Now then, just convince yourself I'm nothing and I'll never bother you again, Jack…"

Jack bit his lower lip, chewing absently as ideas and questions and doubts rolled over his tongue. He tested the tastes of each, and one single idea, though bitter in consequence, had a single sweet tint to it that set Jack's eyes bright with determination.

Standing, Jack called to Pitch, "I'm not gonna write you off as some bad dream…! Because I know how it feels to be written off like that…! I'm gonna help you Pitch! In whatever way I can!"

Pitch didn't turn back to the frozen spirit, but Jack didn't need his approval. He quickly flew away, heading to the rooms of sleeping children everywhere to try and bring back the fear of the boogieman.

The King of Nightmares watched Jack fly off, remaining completely still with the surprise of his kind act. But once he began to feel a little less transparent, Pitch felt a smile form on his face. Warm, dark tears rolled down his cheeks and he breathed into the wind, "Thank you Frost…"

**I kept on thinking of this for like… A while… Why'd I say like…? Mm… Stupid…**

**Anyway… Yeah… I'm not sure if that could really be called a story… I don't even have a title… Whatever…**


End file.
